


Perhaps It Was For The Best (Or Not)

by Totemplar



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Self-Harm, pls stay safe, this sucks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-24 20:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totemplar/pseuds/Totemplar
Summary: Based on the prompt, "Imagine you are Dean's daughter and he walks in on you self-harming"





	1. Worst Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't the first I've ever written but it's the first one I've posted so please be nice.
> 
> Also, please stay safe, u are all loved, by me.

You know what the worst feeling is? Watching something that you spend years maintaining get washed away in one evening. Maybe it was for the better, maybe it wasn’t. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because now I was screwed. More screwed than I had ever been in my whole life. Let me just start from the beginning;

I heaved my bag onto my bed with a sigh. 2 weeks. I had been gone hunting for 2 weeks. During this time I just couldn’t get enough alone time to do what I really needed to do. I pulled out my knife. It shined in the artificial light of the room. The blade was made of a bright silver titanium, and the handle was stone with a stripe of gold going down the center. It wasn’t too big, only about 7 inches when it was unfolded. It had been a gift from my biological father for my tenth birthday. I rolled up my sleeve, revealing countless, angry red lines. I slashed the knife across my forearm 3 times. Always in sets of 3s. White hot pain flooded my arm, and it was the only thing I could think about for a moment, which was good. The weight was lifted off my shoulders for a second, and I relaxed. I watched as the blood form a perfect, dotted line of crimson. I always loved this part. It was what kept me alive. I watched as a stream of blood ran down my forearm.

A knock at the door was all it took to make me spring into action. I shoved the knife under my pillow and yanked my sleeve down, hoping the blood wouldn’t seep through.

“Y/n?” It was Dean. “Can I come in?” I composed myself and took a deep breath, my arm hidden behind my back in a manner that was meant to look natural. I walked up to the door and unlocked it. “Hey kiddo,” Started Dean, I sat down on my bed, trying to keep the look panic off my face. “I was just wondering if you were okay, you seem to have been pretty down lately.”  _ They’re getting suspicious. _

I tried my hardest to force the panic out of my voice, “Yeah, of course, I’m fine.” I said. I could feel the blood making a mess on my sleeve. I needed to get Dean out of the room. My mind raced with possible ways to get him out until I decided on the most believable thing. I faked a yawn. “Look, Dean,” I said, falling more and more into my compulsory lie. After I had run away when I was 11, the Winchesters had found me on the side of a highway. I didn’t really understand why, but Dean had taken a strong liking to me and seemed determined to adopt me as his own. Sam had been against it at first, I was too, but eventually, Dean got him on his side. I was pretty sure Sam felt attached to me at this point too. “Can we please have this conversation tomorrow? I’m just really tired.” I said. Even though it was still 7 pm, it was the most believable thing I could come up with.

“Oh.. of course.” Said Dean, and he started to walk away, however, he abruptly turned around and said, “Hey, is your arm okay? You’ve been holding it kind of weird.” The familiar cold grip of panic started to rise up again.

“Uh, yeah. It’s fine.” I said, as calmly as I could, displaying the clean arm. “See?”

“Oh, I... meant the other arm,” Said Dean, hesitantly. I was really screwed now.

“I said it was fine!” I snapped. I jumped up from the bed and took a few steps backward. It was a lot harsher than I had meant it to be, and I had instantly regretted it. 

“Really?” Asked Dean. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” That was all I had thought of saying.

“Then can I see your arm, I just want to make sure.” Said Dean.  _ Damn these Winchesters.  _ He was pissed and annoyed and suspicious. I really hadn’t done myself any favors. He approached me and gently, but firmly, took my wrist. It was one of those grips that said,  _ I don’t want to scare you but remember, I am much stronger than you. _ He brought it forward. Seeing the blood soaking through the sleeve on my shirt, his immediate emotion was worry. He looked up at me and gave me a face that said,  _ you didn’t tell me about this,  _ **_why_ ** _? _ However, when he brought up my sleeve and saw the 3 lines and all the scars that came with it, his eyes flashed with anger. I was scared, I was  _ terrified.  _ Then his face changed to something I didn’t quite recognize. At that moment I did the only thing I could think of:

I yanked my arm from his grasp and sprinted through my door, and through the bunker. I grabbed a gun from the kitchen counter and ran out the front door. I just needed some time to think. I just needed to be  _ alone.  _ I ran to the only place I could think of. It was an abandoned bridge which my friends had creatively named  _ West Tributary Bridge _ . It was only half a mile from the bunker, however, in my panicked state, and since I was already out of breath and hyperventilating. It took me 10 minutes to get there.


	2. West Tributary Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get to the bridge, sadness ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow Chapter 2 not even 10 minutes after Chapter 1 (I'm not sorry)

I stood under the tree which I had always called _The Northbury Tree_. I took a few deep breaths, however, no matter what I did I couldn’t calm down. Some part of my brain was still trying to be rational.

_OK, what are our options right now?_

I can run away.

_Where would you even go? How would you feed yourself? No way._

I can face Dean.

_He probably thinks that you’re crazy, and they took you in, they can throw you back out._

They both seem to end in the same way, what am I supposed to do?

_You’re fucked. Isn’t this what happened to Cecilia when someone found out? The next week she was dead with sliced wrists._

Suddenly, the thought of the gun in my waistband came into my head. I knew what I was supposed to do. I slowly reached behind me, and my fingers wrapped around the gun. The metal was slightly warm from being against my back. It felt like salvation.

_Don’t let her death mean nothing. At least_ **_try_ ** _._

The thought rang clear in my head. _One try._ I picked up my phone with shaky hands. I called the phone number that was seared into my head.

_2 7 3 - 8 2 5 5._

The National Suicide Hotline. Almost immediately, the familiar voice message played. _“You have reached The National Suicide Hotline. One of our trained and caring operators will be with you shortly.”_ The calm elevator music only played for probably only a few minutes, but to me, it seemed like the longest time in the world. The click of the phone being picked up sounded. I was silent for a while, trying to get the courage to say something.

“Hello?” Said the operator. It was definitely a male responding.

“Oh, uh… Hi..” I said.

“What do you want to talk about?” He responded. His voice was pleasant and calm. I wasn’t really sure what to say.

“I- uh, my adoptive father found out about my self-harm, and I’m not sure what to do. The only option right now seems to be the gun at my head.”

“Did your father seem angry at you?” He asked.

“I- uh- I think so. I can’t just face him. He seemed so hurt. He probably thinks I’m crazy, he’ll get mad and he’ll yell and scream… That’s what happens when people find out.” I answered.

“Does he yell and scream at you often?”

“Well, no.”

“Then what makes you think he’ll yell and scream at you now?”

“Because that’s what people do!” I yelled, quickly losing my patience. “It’s what happened to Cecilia, it’s what happened to Tyler, it’s what happened to me once upon a time! And now they're dead.”

“Ok, ok.” He started. He remained calm, even though I had just yelled at him. “I can’t possibly understand what that was like, but what do you mean by it happened to you?”

I took a deep breath. I hadn’t exactly told anyone about this. “My parents yelled at me a lot, and after my mom overdosed on Zoloft, my biological dad got physical. After he found out when he was drunk, he screamed and yelled at me and called me weak and pathetic, then he hit me. And when I told Cecilia she was so caught up with trying to help me, she stopped looking after herself.”

“Something you need to understand is that your friend’s suicide, and your biological dad beating you, none of that was your fault.”

“You don’t understand!” I was screaming now, “I SAW her getting worse, and yet I did NOTHING! I didn’t try and help, I didn’t do anything, I just watched!” Tears ran down my face and I was breathing hard now.

“That was her choice, you weren’t in a state to help he-”

“I could have tried!!” A sob tore itself from my throat.

“Listen, that was in the past, all you can do is move forward. Killing yourself won’t change anything.”

“I will get rid of all the pain and guilt I feel,” I said.

“Your father wants to help, talk to him, you’re in a better place now.” He said.

“I- I guess I am,” I said. “What if he’s just like everyone else?”

“Everyone else isn’t like that, you were thrown into a bad situation and you have nothing to compare it to, but now that’s over, you can get help, you can feel better.”

Although I was far from happy, I felt something, like a flare, much more than what I had felt in the past 6 years. “I feel a little better now, thank you.”

“Do you feel well enough to hang up?” He asked.

“Uh, I think so.” The gun was still in my hand, but it wasn’t at my head anymore. It hanged loosely from my right hand.

“Ok, make sure you talk to your dad.” He said.

“I will,” I said and hung up. _God, what were you thinking?? You’re not a coward! Get over yourself._ I sighed and looked across the rusted metal bridge, I was going to talk to Dean, somehow. I turned around and started toward the bunker.

It took me 15 minutes of my slow walk to get back. It seemed a lot shorter than that, and soon I was at the front door of the bunker. I had to remind myself to breathe. _Why did you choose to do this again?_ I had no idea. In the 15 minute walk back my goals had gone from ‘try and get some help’ to ‘just try and get through it’. I thought that sharing as little as possible would raise as little questions as possible. Of course, there was the question which I had to try my best to avoid, ‘Why?’. I had to keep control of the conversation.

There was arguing coming from the inside of the bunker. _This is your fault, you were the cause of this._ My hands were shaking a lot more than I had hoped them to be as I reached for the doorknob. My fingers wrapped around the bronze, and I turned it as slow as possible, trying not to make too much noise, and pushed open the door. The arguing stopped immediately. Dean was sitting at the coffee table across from Sam, his eyes were bloodshot and there were tear streaks down his face. Guilt flooded my body. Sam’s face was completely devoid of emotion as he sat there.

Surprisingly it was Sam who spoke first.

“Y/n, you’re okay!” He said, standing up. I ignored the question. Dean was still sitting down, staring at the wall. Walking up to the table, I unloaded the gun and tossed the full magazine onto the table, and then the barrel.

“I’ve decided against it.” I said dryly.

“Decided against what?!” Said Sam, worry evident in his voice.

“Blowing my fucking brains out.” I said, as if it was something obvious, “I’ll be in my room if you need me. Door’s unlocked.” This seemed to snap Dean out of whatever trance he was in. After I got to my room, I laid down on my bed and stared at my ceiling while I waited for Dean to come into my room. After a minute, I heard the door to my room being quietly pushed open, “I cannot believe I let that operator talk me into doing this.” I said passively. Dean didn’t pay any attention to it.

“How are you?” He asked quietly.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” What my only response.

“Fair enough,” responded Dean. His voice was heavy with hurt. I could tell that he was struggling to keep his composure. “Why?” There it was. “Why didn’t you tell us that you were hurting, don’t you trust us?”

“Have you looked at yourself lately?” I responded.

“I just can’t understand, how can you just push this aside? This is serious! Can’t you see how this has hurt us?! You need help!” _Help._ Ugh. I hated that word. It made me feel like someone who couldn’t take care of themself.

I turned over to face him, “I understand. You’re hurt, I hurt you, I’m sorry. Are we done?” I said.

“No, we are not done!” Dean was yelling now. “That’s another thing I can’t understand, how can you just turn this into a joke?! Is this just some big joke to you?! Dammit y/n, this is serious! You nearly killed yourself!”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” I said.

“Then help me understand!” He yelled.

“Ugh. Work. Can we please do this tomorrow? I’m tired. I almost killed myself you know?”

“No! We can’t do this tomorrow! I want to know why.” I did my best puppy dog eyes, I learned from Sam. “Fine! Tomorrow!” Huffed Dean, and walked out, almost slamming the door behind him. I turned over and started to cry again. My father's words came back to me.

_“Jeez, Y/n, you’re so weak and pathetic! Why do feel the need to put me through this?! I’ve tried to talk to you, and you don’t listen.” I tried to defend myself, but it was no use. “You’re worthless and weak. You can’t even handle the smallest of inconveniences! The next thing I know you’re gonna have killed yourself. Actually, it would be better like that!”_

The voice rang out through my head. I collapsed onto the floor, silently sobbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I still hate it
> 
> Stay safe, I love you all.
> 
> I've finally edited Chapters 1 and 2, Chapter 3 will be out sometime in the next few days.


	3. In Which Everything Goes Wrong, Very Rapidly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wow stuffs getting intense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm constantly conflicted between "constructive criticism is appreciated" and "if you don't like it, don't read it" it's fun

It took awhile, but eventually, I calmed down. I always reread some of my favorite Norse Myths when I was feeling sad, so I did that.

At some point, Sam knocked on my door, “Can I come in?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, my voice cracking, “Why not.” He walked up to me and wrapped his arms around me. It was more physical affection than I had gotten in a while.

“Are you okay?” He asked. It was always ‘are you okay?’, perpetually ‘are you ok?’.

I sniffed. “What do you think.” It wasn’t a question.

“Hmph.” He said. “So what’s the book about?”

“Norse mythology.” I answered. The page I was on had a painted picture of Loki’s 3 children; Fenrir, Jörmungandr, and Hel.

“Interesting.” Said Sam. “I’m going to get get some sleep now, you should too. You’ve had a long day.” It surprised me how Sam was so calm about this, he always seemed like the more emotional one.

Before he could close the door, I said, “Hey Sam, why are how are you so calm about this?”

He hesitated before answering, “Let’s just say I know what it’s like to want out of my own skin.” He closed the door and I heard receding footsteps in the direction of Sam’s room. I continued to read my myths until I fell asleep on top of the book, my back hunched over the desk.

_~Dream~_

_Blood was dripping down my arms, a lot of it. Vertical cuts made on both wrists were seemingly carving themselves. Only then I realised that there was a knife in my hands, with my blood covering it. I started panicking, What happened? I heard a voice behind me._

_“Stop manipulating us, don’t you see what this has done to us?! Look at what you’ve done to yourself! And all of it for attention!” I looked up and saw Dean, with my parent behind him, standing there, looking down at me with disgust._

_“I- It’s not for attention…” I murmured, my voice failing me._

_Suddenly, Dean was all I could see, his image grew, and surrounded me, “They WHY!? You had to destroy me and Sammy just for your own selfish reasons!” His hand came up and he swung at me._

_~Dream end~_

I snapped up, my eyes quickly adjusting to the brightness of my room. The digital clock said that it was 4:30 in the morning. it was still pitch black outside. There was a picture on my desk, it was of my parents at their wedding, when I was still only 3 years old, and things were better. Looking at the picture, I was filled with a rage, and deep hatred of them both. _How could you do this to me?_ I ran my arms along the desk, effectively clearing the desk and pushing everything on it onto the floor. The framed picture was on the floor face down, and when I picked it up, I saw that the glass covering over the picture had cracked. I picked it up, and stared at it through the cracked glass. I was filled with a longing, a longing of something I never had, and would never get. I hurled the picture across the room, and it hit the opposite wall. The glass gave way an shattered onto the floor.

While I was sure that Sam and Dean had heard that, I didn’t really care. I looked at the pillow which I knew had 2 full bottles of pills in the stuffing, 1 empty one. I unzipped it, and took one of them out. They were my mother’s. I had stolen them from her after she used the pills in the empty one to kill herself. I held it up, the light filtering through the harsh orange if the bottle. However, instead of downing them all, like I wanted to do, I winded my arm backward and threw them against the wall, the cap popped off, and pills spilled onto the floor. Just as the pill bottle left my hand, I heard Sam’s and Dean’s footsteps approaching the door.

“Y/n?! Are you okay?!” Sam yelled.

“Please let us in!” Shouted Dean.

I ignored them and instead crawled over to the glass shards on the floor and picked one up. _Coward, coward, coward, coward, coward._ I brought the shard down onto my arm and carved crimson lines into my wrists and forearms. Tears fell down my face and made my self inflicted wounds sting, though I hardly noticed. I heard the door being kicked open as I continued to carve into my arm.

Strong arms wrapped me, restraining me. I struggled to get free, but eventually gave up. One of the brothers was in front of me, trying to calm me down. The pain in my arms was starting to register in my brain and made me more clear- headed, I was able to see through my tears, and I was able to make out who was in front of me, it was Sam.

“Y/n, listen to me, it’s all going to be okay, I just need you to calm down.”

There was only one thought in my head, “I’msorry I’msorry I’m sorry.”

“No no no, don’t apologize, we’ll get you patched up and we’ll deal with this later.” Said Sam.

I was panting, “O- Okay” I said.

“Alright, we’re going to go to the bathroom, get you all patched up.” It was Dean that talked now. Sam slowly unwrapped my fingers from the shard of glass, and took it from me. Dean picked me up and carried me to their bathroom. They sat me down on top of the counter. Sam placed the bloodied shard of glass onto the counter.

“Alright, let me see here,” Said Dean. He slowly took my arms and held them out so that he could see. There blood ran down my arms in little rivulets and covered my hands. “Nothing we can’t fix.” Continued Dean. He spoke a lot gentler than he had before. He took the first aid kit that Sam had gotten, and took out the rubbing alcohol.

“Ok.” Said Dean, “This is going to sting.” He practically poured the entire bottle over my arms. White hot pain shot through my forearms, and I tried my hardest not to wince. I failed. Dean shot me a look that practically said _You brought this upon yourself._

I was on the verge of starting to hyperventilate, I felt absolutely awful. Dean worked quickly as he wrapped my arms with the medical tape. Sam had been standing in the corner, not really sure what to do or say. My face was burning and I could do was stare at the ground.

Dean got up with a sigh, “I’m going to go make some coffee.”

“It’s 4 in the morning.” Sam pointed out. Dean just ignored him. I slid down from the counter and pushed past Sam into my room. I stared at the mess, and resolved to clean it up later. I sat down on the edge of my bed, feeling detached from everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you realize that I'm just making this up as I go, I have no real plan as for what I'm doing

**Author's Note:**

> It's short, I know, more chapters to come


End file.
